


this sucks; i'm lovesick

by 991102



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: M/M, busan boys are best boys and i said what i said, not beta read or edited i’m so sorry i was trying to post it before midnight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:59:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/991102/pseuds/991102
Summary: elevator music fucking sucks





	this sucks; i'm lovesick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jjaeniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjaeniel/gifts).



> dis 1 is 4 my brother ry i lov u dude happy fuckin birthday hag

Woojin doesn’t really remember how it happened (he remembers _exactly_ how it happened but he’ll take this secret to the grave); how the heavens had known to drop him into just the right place at the right time; how the world flipped upside down and forced Woojin to freefall to his lowest low; how the sun finally shone again and guided Woojin through the darkest time of his life; and how Cupid had hit him with not one, but two arrows.

 

From what Jihoon said though (Woojin doesn’t know how it’s possible that Jihoon knows more about Woojin’s life than Woojin himself, but he thinks it must be a best-friends-for-life thing), it goes a little something like this:

 

Woojin is a little lost when he moves to Seoul.

 

Not lost as in did-I-miss-the-last-right-turn, though granted, he _is_ a bit directionally challenged, but lost as in is-this-what-I-want-to-do-with-my-life and the more optimistic I-miss-home-but-maybe-I-should-give-this-a-shot.  

 

(“Jihoon, I want to go home.” Woojin whines one day over FaceTime, Busan accent lacing his words.

 

Jihoon snorted and rolled his eyes. Bad connection and static doing nothing to tame the sass (and concern) clear in his voice. “Seoul _is_ your home now, Woojin.”

 

Woojin knows Jihoon is right, but that doesn’t mean he won’t continue to roll around in bed and complain about how cold Seoul is; how the pollution is killing his lungs; how the bus is always jam packed; how he misses _home_ ; how he’s _lonely_.

 

“Maybe you just have to find something that reminds you of Busan.”)  

 

Woojin isn’t a train wreck, really, he isn’t, but he’s a little shy and a little scared of strangers and those two things don’t necessarily work for him in a big city like Seoul.

 

In fact, nothing works for him in Seoul, not even the damn elevator in his apartment building.  

 

(Woojin groans for the nth time in the last five minutes, punching in random buttons on the panel and praying to the gods that one will work.

 

He had a long day at the dance studio and he really, _really_ just wants to take a hot shower and dive head first into bed, but the stupid elevator doors won’t _close_ and he _refuses_ to take the stairs; he would probably collapse before he even made it up to the ninth floor.

 

Woojin huffs and slides down the cool metal wall until his butt hits the floor. “Fine. I’ll just take a nap right here.” Woojin hugs his backpack closer to his body and leans his head against the wall, eyes closing.

 

It’s kind of uncomfortable though and the elevator music _sucks_.

 

But by some force of nature or maybe it’s the heavens taking pity on him, the doors ding shut.  

 

Woojin yawns and mumbles a sleepy sign of thanks. “Thank you, sweet baby Jesus.”

 

A low chuckle. A laugh.

 

Woojin quirks a brow, eyes still closed.

 

_What’s so funny?_

 

“Quit laughing, Niel, you’re going to startle him.”

 

“I can’t help it!” Another laugh. It’s the same one, but it’s hushed—it sounds a little fuzzy to Woojin’s ears, as if it’s being smothered—this time. “Did you hear what he said?”

 

Woojin hums contently and snuggles into his backpack.

 

_What a coincidence! I said something just now too..._

 

Hold on.

 

Back it up.

 

Is he.... not alone?

 

“I know what he said.”

 

Woojin’s eyes shoot open and he jumps at the sight of long legs, fight or flight instinct kicking in as he holds his fists in front of his face.

 

That same laughter fills the air, the bright sound paired with a low, hearty chuckle.

 

Woojin looks up to come face to face with a _god_ standing beside (have mercy on Woojin’s soul) another _god_. Woojin mumbles a curse under his breath. “Dear fucking God.”

 

“My name is Daniel, actually.” The blonde one flashes a blinding smile at Wooijn and Woojin swears on his life that this… this _dude_ , whole bad boy, your-daughter-calls-me-daddy-too look aside, is the embodiment of rainbows and sunshine. “Kang Daniel.”

 

“I’m Hwang Minhyun.” The raven haired one shoots Woojin a polite smile and offers his hand.

 

Woojin stares at his outstretched hand for a moment in half-awaken confusion before it registers with him that’s he supposed to like, you know, _take_ the other’s hand.  

 

Heat colors Woojin’s cheeks and he coughs. “Oh, um, I’m Park Woojin.” Woojin takes Minhyun’s hand and allows the other to tug him up as he rushes to stand.

 

The other two still tower over him though Woojin’s standing now and it makes him shrink in on himself just the slightest, arms hugging his backpack tightly to his body. Woojin looks from Daniel to Minhyun, willing his face to remain neutral though his nerves are killing him from the inside out.

 

Woojin doesn’t know what prompts him to say more; is it the welcoming glimmer in Daniel’s eyes?; is it the warm smile on Minhyun’s lips?; or is it the odd, almost calming familiarity that the two radiate? Woojin scratches his nape. “I just moved here from Busan.”  

 

The blonde’s eyes light up and he _hops_ once in excitement. “Really? Me and Minhyun hyung are from Busan, too!” He teasingly side eyes the taller and leans in to whisper to Woojin. “Minhyun hyung is a cold, city boy now, though.”  

 

The other rolls his eyes but a fond smile tugs at his lips, one hand reaching up to muss up Daniel’s hair. “I can hear you, Niel.”

 

It’s only then that Woojin’s eyes wander down and catch on their locked hands.

 

_Oh._

 

He bites back a smile. They’re a cute couple.

 

Woojin watches on as the two share a look, matching grins on their faces, and something twists in Woojin’s stomach. It’s not a bad twist per se, but it’s _something_ , and Woojin doesn’t know what it means.

 

Woojin startles again at the soft _ding!_ of the elevator and he blinks as the other two males move to hop off.

 

“This is our stop, but we’ll see you around, yeah?” Minhyun asks, smile tossed over his shoulder.

 

Woojin dumbly nods and waves back at Daniel until the two are out of sight.

 

The doors slide closed and Woojin punches in the glowing square next to the number nine.

 

Woojin sighs as exhaustion weighs on his shoulders.

 

Jihoon’s words ring in his ears.

 

_That’s right. I just have to find something that will remind me of home._

 

Home is Busan.

 

Woojin doesn’t want to think about how his mind instinctively drifts to bright laughter and a warm smile.)

 

It’s on a rainy day that Woojin finds out that his umbrella doesn’t work either.

 

(Woojin whines to himself, pout on his lips and he stares up at the darkening clouds with blank eyes. Woojin groans and winces when a fat raindrop lands on his nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

He sighs and tosses his umbrella in the nearest trash can.

 

He’s a couple of blocks from his apartment building, the rain unrelenting as it soaks through his t-shirt and makes his wet bangs fall into his eyes, when he notices that the rain has ceased. Woojin grunts in confusion. It’s still very clearly pouring, puddles rising in the dips and cracks of the concrete, but the rain no longer touches him.

 

Woojin’s gaze flickers up and then over.

 

Umbrella.

 

Two familiar faces.

 

Woojin’s eyes widen and he nearly jumps out of the protection of the umbrella if not for Daniel’s hold on his arm.

 

“Stay close.” The older warns as he holds the umbrella over Woojin’s head with a small frown.

 

“What are you doing out here without an umbrella, Woojin?” Minhyun asks as he looks over Woojin’s shivering frame (Woojin ignores how a shiver runs down his spine for a completely different reason), concern coloring his eyes. Woojin wants to refuse when Minhyun shrugs off his jacket and drops it onto Woojin’s shoulders but he’s freezing and it’s so warm. Woojin pulls it closer to his body and smiles his thanks.

 

“My umbrella broke.” Woojin ducks his head in embarrassment when the other two laugh at his misery. “I have really bad luck.”

 

A teasing smile plays on Minhyun’s lips and Woojin thinks he swoons just a little. “So first you break the elevator and now your umbrella?”

 

“Maybe…”

 

“So you’re like Beerus?” The other snorts. “God of Destruction?”

 

Woojin narrows his eyes, feigning offense. “Did you just call me an ugly, purple cat?”  

 

The blonde laughs, eyes closing and face scrunching up as he grins. Daniel’s got the most contagious laugh and a small smile tugs at Woojin’s own lips. “I think Beerus is cute, though?”

 

Woojin ignores the implications behind that statement and pretends he doesn’t notice the older males’ matching smiles. “I don’t trust anyone who thinks Beerus is cute.”

 

The blonde’s laughter is drowned out by the sound of the pouring rain but it looks just as radiant.  “And I don’t trust anyone who takes naps on elevator floors.”

 

Woojin grins. “Touché.”

 

Under the umbrella and huddled close to Minhyun and Daniel, Woojin is flooded with warmth and comfort. The comfortable banter and shared smiles make the cold air and fierce rain just a tiny bit more bearable and it’s not long before Woojin’s pushed Minhyun’s jacket into his reluctant hands and waved goodbye to the two of them.

 

The doors slide closed and Woojin punches in the glowing square next to the number nine.

 

Woojin smiles to himself as he thinks about a stupid joke Daniel had cracked.

 

The older reminds Woojin so much of a boy he used to know back in elementary school, always laughing and eager to make others smile.

 

Woojin thinks about Minhyun and the comforting scent of his cologne; Woojin doesn’t know how else to explain it than the warmth of summer in Busan and soft glow of the morning sun.

 

Woojin’s come to the conclusion that they remind him _a lot_ of Busan, but rather than the hollow homesickness that should wash over him, Woojin’s comforted by the fact that home is closer than he thought.)

 

Woojin is a fighter though.

 

He is.

 

Jihoon and his mom say so.

 

Nothing can stop Park Woojin—not if he knows what he wants and knows how to make it his.

 

They’re wrong, though.

 

There’s one thing that can make things hard for Park Woojin and it’s his own head.

 

(Woojin’s sad.

 

He’s so, _so_ fucking sad, and he doesn’t know _why_.

 

It’s days like this that he just wants to pack up his life; the traces of himself around his small apartment; the picture frames lining the walls; the movies and CDs under his bed; the worn dance shoes by his door; the clothes in the closet across the room; the extra spicy ramen in his pantry; and move back to Busan.

 

He wants to erase his entire existence if only just for a moment and vanish from the four walls that stare mockingly back at him.  

 

He wants to cry.

 

He really, _really_ wants to cry.

 

So he does.

 

Jihoon said it was healthy or whatever to allow himself to emote.

 

He’s emoting just fine, isn’t he?

 

Woojin laughs.

 

He laughs and he laughs and he laughs through his tears.

 

He doesn’t know why he’s laughing.

 

He doesn’t know why he storms out of his apartment.

 

He doesn’t know why he marches down to the sixth floor but he does it, laughing as he rounds the corner and knocks on the door with the number 607 on it.

 

Woojin stops laughing once the door swings open, Daniel’s smile faltering once he has a good look at Woojin’s face; at Woojin’s tear stained cheeks; at Woojin’s red nose and swollen eyes; at the tears that are still clinging to his lashes. “Woojin? What’s wrong?”

 

Woojin hiccups and he knows he’s still fucking _crying_ and that he’s burdening Daniel and Minhyun, but he can’t _stop_ . He doesn’t know _how_. Woojin takes in a shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

 

“Come here.” The older opens his arms and Woojin doesn’t think twice before entering his embrace and melting into his hold, sobs shaking through his body as a wave of emotion crashes onto him.

 

“Who is it, Niel?” Woojin’s face is buried in Daniel’s shoulder but he hears Minhyun come around the corner. “Woojin? What’s going on? Niel, what happened?”

 

“I don’t know, hyung. He can’t stop crying.” The blonde says, holding Woojin just a tiny bit closer to himself.

 

Woojin whimpers, guilt eating at him from the inside out; he knows he had no right to barge into their home and demand comfort; he knows he is nothing to them; he knows he’s just a kid that they happened to run into sometimes; he knows and yet he had coming running into their arms.

 

He’s pathetic.

 

Woojin wants to run.

 

“I should go.” Woojin pushes the older away, wiggling out of his embrace but the older only tugs Woojin back into his arms, tucking his head under his chin.  

 

“Woojin, it’s okay.” The older’s hold on him is tight and secure and Woojin is too drained to fight him off, hiding his face in the crook of the other’s neck.

 

“You’re not a burden to us, Woojin.” Minhyun breathes softly, voice calm and soothing as he runs a hand up and down Woojin’s back. “Just stay still and allow us to comfort you.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Woojin croaks out, words murmured into Daniel’s skin. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Minhyun’s comforting touch doesn’t falter. “You don’t have to be.”

 

Woojin bites back another sob and he snuggles closer into the blonde’s embrace. “I’m just sorry.”

 

He doesn’t know what he’s sorry for. Is he sorry that he’s here? Is he sorry that he’s crying in the middle of their kitchen? Is he sorry that he doesn’t know why he’s crying? Is he sorry that he’s sorry?

 

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Minhyun’s voice is still so soft and it only makes Woojin want to cry more, but he doesn’t say that.

 

He says “Yes, please.” and he hestitates for a moment before asking “Can I have two marshamllows?”

 

Daniel’s soft laughter is low in his ear, the sound resonating through his chest and making his shoulders shake. Woojin can _feel_ his laughter and it makes him crack a small smile.

 

Woojin can hear the smile in Minhyun’s voice too. “Anything for you.”

 

The oldest makes the hot chocolate and Daniel refuses to free Woojin from his hug, forcing them to waddle over to the couch. The blonde still insists on cuddling Woojin as they watch a rerun of Chopped and Minhyun holds his hand as he talks his ear off, making commentary on the show and using words that Woojin didn’t even know existed, but Woojin wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

It’s easy to be with Minhyun and Daniel; it’s too easy and it scares Woojin (just as much as it comforts him).

 

Woojin thinks they’re starting to be more than just reminders of home.

 

He thinks they’re _becoming_ home.)

 

Sometimes Seoul really fucking sucks; sometimes Woojin really misses Busan; but sometimes Jihoon is right.

 

Seoul is his home now.

 

Home is not the cold air; home is not the pollution; home is not the jam packed buses.

 

Home is finding comfort; home is bright laughter; home is a warm smile.

 

Woojin isn’t going to say that “home is where the heart is” shit but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, Hwang Minhyun and Kang Daniel could be his home.

 

(Jihoon picks up after two rings, his wide grin staring back at Woojin and saying “I told you so.”

 

Woojin groans. “Shut up.”

 

Jihoon’s smile is teasing but his eyes are soft; dare Woojin say proud? “I told you to find something that reminded you of home. Not to find two smoking hot boys to fall in love with.”

 

Woojin’s eyes widen and he chokes on air, hissing at Jihoon. “Who said I was _in love with them?_ ”

 

Jihoon cocks his head to the side. “You did? Woojin you literally just texted me saying…” Jihoon cuts himself off once he notices Woojin’s red face and wide eyes. “Dear God, they’re there, aren’t they? They’re in the room with you? Your smoking hot Busan boys?”

 

Bright laughter fills the air and a warm smile is shot at Woojin.

 

Woojin nods and he sighs. “Yes, they are.”)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading ! kudos and comments are always appreciated ! if you want to contact me you can find me here on twitter [@applewooj](https://twitter.com/applewooj) or on [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/applewooj) if you prefer to stay anon !


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